


Boys in Blue

by Crocuta



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: AU: 1920s NYPD, M/M, Police, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:18:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crocuta/pseuds/Crocuta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No uniform lives in that city, they can only survive it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys in Blue

 

It was supposed to be an achievement getting transferred in the NYPD. Officers who served could enjoy the luxury of escorting important political figures and celebrities, they could mingle at events, enjoy their high paycheck, and chew the taxpayer's fat with their feet up. If they served well they could retire at an early age, live the rest of their life with a sizable income, and they could transfer wherever in the country they wanted. If they could survive. New York City - the murder capital. The cop killer. The Mah-fee-oh-so hideaway. Prohibition Empire. The home of The Five Familes. No uniform lives in that city, they can only survive it. 

 

 

Officer Barrow sat behind his desk in his corner office. That damnable Chief Carson had him running dispatch for the fourth night this week. He dozed with his head tilted back and a book covering the bridge of his nose and eyes. [Ulysses](http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/338798.Ulysses) _'s_ 's pages fluttered with each exhale. The prescient's darkness was starting to warm with the the light of early morning, officers mingled in taking their cases, filing their reports, and putting on the community coffee pot.  

 **Boooobeeep-brr-brr-beeep**  
  
The radio sounded out an officer's distinctive tone and location. It chirped twice like an alarm, and wailing out the series of beeps like some kind of dying bird. Without removing the book, Officer Barrow's arm reached out and retrieved the handset. “What do you need Nugent?” the Officer's voice was thick with sleep and annoyance.

 

“A read on license number 6-3 Beta 4-5 Dragon – 6-3-Octagon.” Came the garbled response through the speaker.  
  
  
“One moment.”  
  
The dispatch officer slumped forward, letting the book fall onto his desk. Thomas grabbed his log book with one hand, and rubbed his eyes with the other. His face thin, pale, with the dark circles every officer had under his blue-gray eyes. The officer propped himself onto his elbows to leaf through a binder more ancient than the city itself. Dust poured off its pages and danced in motes under the green-hooded desk lamp's rays.  
  
“35 years old. Brown, Brown. Clean record.”  
  
“Ten Four.”  


Of course it was the greenhorn Nugent buzzing in looking for sympathy and some cookies for working the district by himself. Most newbies were chomping at the bit to get out of the station and do their own moonlighting, but Nugent just couldn't get the hang of being off the teat.

  


Officer Barrow stood and righted his uniform. He smoothed his hair back and sat his hat on top of it. He re-fasted his cuffs on his uniform jacket. The Chief wouldn't tolerate a button, badge or lace out of place even if he had been talking into the radio all night. The less reasons Charlie Carson had for raising that thick single eyebrow at him, the better.  
  
  
“Officer Thomas Barrow?” Came the gravelly voice of the Chief announcing his presence at the door.  
  
  
“Yes sir?” Bite me sir. Kiss my ass sir. I will end you if you make me sit at dispatch sir. I swear if you-  
  
“Seems we have a new officer starting today,” Chief Carson interrupted Thomas's internal dialogue. His keen gaze swept over the space for any work-place violations that may have occurred during the over night hours. It found nothing as always, a fern plant in the corner, emptied trash, a pack of Camels, and the binder of files. Passing with flying colors, surely to the Cheif's dismay.  
  
“I see, sir. Will they be training along with Alfred?” Thomas couldn't bring himself to call that hairless rookie an officer yet.  
  
“I think not,” Chief Carson gave Barrow a murderous look framed by his massive graying eyebrows.  
“If you don't mind being done flying between duties for a while I'll have our greenhorn ride along with you, and _Officer_ Nugent can take to learning the dispatch system that he seems so fond of using.”

 

“Right you are, sir.” Barrow opened the door and politely held it for the Chief to walk through.  
  
Thomas followed the Chief through the prescient, skillfully avoiding busy officers leading in perps and secretaries scrambling to carry files and answer calls. The early sunrise silence had broken and in is place the mayhem of morning took hold of the office. O'Brien gave him a cold sneer from over in processing, stamping in a skeleton's prints. She changed since she got her white shirt, leaving Officer Barrow behind in the responsibility of her new position. She looked positively smitten at Thomas being lead to the back office with Carson, the usual spot for pink slips. Thomas afforded a cool look with his chin lifted, and snapped his attention to ahead of him.  
  
The exchange was unseen by Carson who snapped the office door behind them.  
  
“Officer Barrow this is James Kent. He is fresh from Philadelphia's academy who has chosen to seek employment here.” Carson gestured to the new jack who rose to shake hands.  


Thomas felt himself unintentional looking at every detail of the newbie. Short stature, pretty face, fidgety – no wonder the Chief had pulled him for training up this one in particular. The look of softness marked you as a target, making the streets just a bit more cruel in an already cruel city.  
  
“Looking forward to working with you -”  
  
“Barrow,” Thomas provided, feeling Jame's warm grip in his own hand.“Officer Thomas Barrow.”  
  
“Kent, you'll be back in tonight at eight. I trust you will be prompt and in uniform.” Chief Carson frowned, and for the first time Thomas noticed what his rookie was wearing. Striped pants, buttoned shirt with rolled sleeves – _handsome._  
The Chief ignored the rookie, as do all white-shirts.  
  
“Office Barrow, I trust you'll report into me if there are any difficulties.”  


“Of course sir.”  
  
  
Thomas was the sort who took to the vampiric schedule that higher-ups at the station put him on like a duck to water. It was never a choice to run the streets at night, but a matter of getting in their good graces by picking up the unwanted time (and the raise didn't hurt none either). But for some reason he just couldn't get himself to sleep.  


His apartment was on a modest 29th floor of a highrise. The cost was low, the roaches were high, and who the hell did he have to impress anyway? The studio was too small for a bed and barely fit his dresser and fridge-ator – he couldn't remember when he had company over anyway. The cat, Puds, stomped over the counter to see him at the door. The cat's hair was tangled, long and gray, and was so old that its teeth were sticking out from its snout making drool dry along its lips. The beast had belonged to the previous tenant, but Thomas couldn't bear to put it out on the street when it killed the monstrous rats that plagued the building. Puds gave a rusty meow and tore off in the opposite direction.  
  
Badge and gun were locked up above the fridge, and the uniform was hung over the kitchen chair. Thomas climbed onto the sofa, letting himself relax under the ugly pink quilt before the damnable cat climbed up and dug his paws into his leg. The velvet tones of a news radio were turned up against the sound of the screaming child in the room beside him. With his eyes closed he could almost pretend that he couldn't hear the super next door bang on the wall to get him to turn it down.  


 

 

Thomas's dark morning was flavored with black coffee and turkish tobacco.  He didn't sleep well, his dreams were cut in by the loud Marlboro jingle and Pud's jumping on his head. The dreams he could remember were dotted out by warm handshakes and tapioca pudding, not the sort of thing that leaves a man well rested. Thomas puffed rings from his lips between scalding sips of coffee under the bright station garage's lights. He took the time to savor each sip of hot coffee out in the autumn open, inwardly grining at the misfortune of Nugent being locked in on dispatch when he had a new partner to train up and the city streets to his own.

Just when Thomas was wondering if the kid knew where to find him, he spotted him walking from the entrance's backsteps. In the dark Thomas saw the glint of the brass badge and silver buttons.  
  
“Carson showed me how to lock up before he left.”

 

Thomas let out a long plume of smoke from his nose. “Typical.”  
  
He tossed the paper cup and end of the smoke to the ground – stomping them both to a pulp under his boot. Thomas caught James staring at him.  
  
“Going to arrest me for littering are you?”  


He thought he might of seen the new jack swallow down a sharp remark. The grin on the blonde's face shown it had been a good one.  
  
“If your lookin' to arrest then we might as well get a move on, now shouldn't we?”  
  
“Where to?” The rookie dropped into the passenger side of the car and watched as Thomas started it up from the left.  
  
“To go fishin'”  Thomas punched the gas and peeled out into the city streets.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've been tossing this around my head for a while, so here it is! :B


End file.
